


Fugue

by SunGreen70



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunGreen70/pseuds/SunGreen70
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in August, 2011 for the LiveJournal Whose-a-Thon. Prompt: Colin lives in an old hut near the sea somewhere. He has done something bad and has been in prison, is very closed off, silent and a recluse by choice. One day Ryan washes up on the shore with no memory and nowhere to go. Extra fun if we're not sure whether Colin is going to help and love Ryan or eventually rape/kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this story is pretty tame, despite the warning. There is one scene of violence and non-consensual sex, but it's not terribly graphic.

Thunder shook the earth beneath his feet as he stood on shore, peering through the darkness. A burst of lightning briefly enhanced visibility; and yes, there it was again – an inexplicable slash of color bobbing on the violent waves.

Needles of icy rain pricked his skin and heightened the chill from the wind. Absently, he shrugged the threadbare jacket more securely about his shoulders. Kicking off his ragged sneakers, he stepped into the water, ignoring the shock from the cold. He waded out a few feet, mindful of the vicious undertow these brutal storms invariably brought about.

He didn’t have to go far. The rough surf was obligingly carrying its’ mysterious cargo closer to shore. Seeing it come towards him, he stopped knee-deep, and watched and waited.

Lightning illuminated the sky again, and his eyes widened. The object being tossed on the waves was a human form. Heedless of the ocean’s rage, he plunged forward against the tide, meeting the figure halfway.

Just a few yards out, he was able to grasp an arm. With a mighty pull, he yanked the body closer, and wrapping an arm around the chest, turned back toward shore. It was much easier going the other way. Nature seemed hell bent on spewing the two of them from her jaws.

When he was close enough to shore for his feet to touch solid ground, he slipped his hands beneath his companion’s shoulders. For the first time he registered that it was a male. He was either dead or unconscious, and flopped limply about while being dragged along the sand.

Once clear of the tide’s reach, he laid the lifeless form down and knelt beside him for a closer inspection. The man was breathing, his chest rising and falling erratically beneath a muddied yellow rain slicker. Other than that, it was impossible to assess his condition out here with the keening winds now driving the rain sideways. Grasping the limp shoulders once again, he shuffled backwards, lugging the stranger toward the line of trees. It was slow work; the man was large, and his clothing was waterlogged, adding extra weight. The wind hindered their progress further. By the time they had crossed the tree line and made it into the clearing, he was puffing for breath and his arms felt ready to pull right from their sockets.

Just a few yards more and he staggered triumphantly to the small hut. Shoving the door open with his shoulder, he backed inside and heaved his silent escort up onto the cot.

It was pitch black in the shelter. Out in the clearing, the fire had been extinguished hours ago by rain, robbing what little light usually seeped into the hut at night. Squinting at the man who now lay on his bed, he decided he would have to sacrifice some of his dwindling supply of kerosene to light the lamp designated for emergencies. As he fumbled in the supply crate, he tried to recall whether he’d ever happened upon an emergency before, in all his years on the island. He didn’t think so. But this had to qualify.

Once he had the lamp lit, he carried it to the cot and crouched down, shining the light onto the still face. The man was still breathing, at what seemed a normal rate now. Fingers placed against the pulse in the neck proved it to be strong and steady, if a bit on the fast side. But the stranger was still unconscious, and his skin felt cold and clammy. The muddied clothes were soaked through.

He ran an appraising eye down the length of the stranger’s body. The man was very tall, but thin. Some of his own extra clothes would probably do. Setting the lamp on the floor, he made his way to the old wooden trunk and quickly located pants, shirt, and socks, leaving the underwear where it was. _You’re on your own there,_ he thought wryly.

Within minutes he had the stranger’s sopping garments off, and dried the damp skin with a cloth. In doing so, he noted swelling in the man’s calf. He prodded it with his fingers, and a loud groan made him jump. He glanced quickly at the passive face. The stranger was still out cold, but clearly not beyond registering pain. He avoided touching the injured leg again, but suspected it was broken.

Rising to his feet, he took a moment to change his own drenched clothes. Then he rummaged through the supplies again and located an old shirt too badly torn to serve as a garment. Tearing it into strips, he tied them around the man’s leg in a snug wrap that would give it support for the time being. When the storm let up, he could gather some branches and fashion a splint.

Doctoring finished, he carefully dressed the stranger in his own threadbare sweater and jeans. It seemed to help. Already, a bit more warmth radiated from the still body.

Sitting back on his heels, he examined the newcomer more thoroughly. The man’s hair was plastered to his forehead in wet curls. He had a big nose. In the dim light of the lamp, a number of fresh bruises were visible on the still face and the areas of skin left exposed by the too-small clothing. He’d obviously had quite a journey.

Rising to his feet, he drew the scratchy blanket over his guest. He gathered the wet clothing from the floor and carried it to the wooden table, where it could be laid out to dry. As he did so, something fell out of the pile and fluttered to the floor, landing soundlessly at his feet. He bent his knees and snagged it between his fingers.

After laying out the clothes, he set the lamp in the middle of the table and regarded the damp envelope that had fallen from the stranger’s pocket. Somehow it had survived the storm-tossed voyage from wherever he had come from.

Seated on a three legged wooden stool, squeezed in as close as he could get to the lamp, he squinted at the writing. The ink had run so badly in what was obviously the name and address of the recipient that it was impossible to decipher more than a character or two.

The envelope had been torn open, and when he peered inside he saw a sheet of stationary with more writing. He spoke aloud for the first time, addressing the prone figure on the cot.

“You mind?”

The question was met with silence. Curiously, he drew out the paper and unfolded it. The ink on the letter itself had also run from moisture, but with a little effort he could still make out most of the words.

_Dear Ryan,_

  
\- he looked up at the newcomer again. Ryan? That must be his name. The letter had been opened and read, so logic dictated that the stranger was the recipient, not the sender. He returned to his reading.

  
 _This is ridiculous. We need to talk. Please stop ignoring my calls and deleting my emails. I know you’re upset, but there are things we have to discuss. One face to face meeting to hash it out, that’s all I’m asking. If you’ll do that, I swear I’ll stop bothering you, if that’s what you want._

_Ryan, I love you, and that won’t ever change – even though it’s different now. You will always mean a great deal to me, and I would like us to stay friends. I know I went about this the wrong way, and I’m so sorry for my dishonesty. I was an asshole. I know that. I hope you can forgive me, and Wayne hopes you can forgive him too._

_Even if you can’t, we still need to talk. Call me? Please._

_Love,_

_Greg_

He sat thoughtfully for a moment, pondering what he’d just read. Then he replaced the letter in the envelope and slipped it back into the pocket from which it had fallen. Moving to stand beside the cot, he looked down at the man stretched beneath the blanket.

“Pleased to meet you, Ryan,” he said, his voice scratchy with the effort. “I’m Colin.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Cold. So fucking cold._

_It was cold and dark and wet, and he was being slammed mercilessly against rocks and the surprisingly hard surface of the water. Breathing was a chore, and every time he opened his mouth, desperately trying to suck in some air, he swallowed salt water. But mostly he was cold. As cold as death._

_He beat his arms and legs uselessly, fighting to keep his head above the waves. His strength was waning and he realized it was probably hopeless. The ocean was stronger than he was, and it would win._

_Well, he had already lost. It didn’t matter anymore._

_He stopped struggling, his tortured limbs sighing with relief at the rest. Wrapping his arms around himself against the goddamn cold, he closed his eyes and conceded this battle to the ocean._

 

Sunlight penetrated his eyelids and roused him to full consciousness. Muttering a curse, he opened his eyes. Then he bolted upright, heart racing.

“Hello?” he called fearfully. “Hello?”

Almost immediately, he heard someone approaching, and spun his head in the direction of the sound. He found himself staring at a weather-beaten wooden door. Before he could register anything further, the door swung inward and a man appeared.

He was nearly bald, with a fringe of snow white hair ringing his bare scalp. His clothes were old and faded, with tears in the knees of the ratty jeans and at the elbows of a shapeless sweater. He loomed in the doorway, studying him with inquisitive brown eyes like a bird’s. They regarded each other for a long moment; one interested, one frightened.

“Who… who… is it… where?” Forming words was a challenge. He shook his head to clear it, and the balding man cocked his head to the side, still studying him with that intent gaze. When the bald man finally spoke, his voice was low and a bit raspy.

“Are you Ryan?”

The question made no sense. He could only stare blankly at the bald man, who took a step closer.

“I’m Colin,” the bald man offered.

He found his voice again. “Where…” It was still too hard to speak in sentences. He trailed off, looking helplessly at Colin.

“This is where I live,” Colin informed him, and lapsed into silence again. Okay, so Colin wasn’t the best conversationalist either.

In the lull that followed, he darted his eyes around Colin’s home, taking in a small room sparsely furnished with wooden crates and a table and stools that looked handmade. Over his head, a canvas tarp was nailed to what appeared to serve as a window.

Colin nodded towards the tarp. “I’ll take that down today. I put it up for the rain. I didn’t want to disturb you while you were sleeping.”

Words still failed him. He nodded mutely, confused. Glancing down, he noted that he was stretched out on an Army type cot with a mattress so thin it might as well not be there. A rough, heavy blanket covered him to the waist. There was no pillow.

Colin moved to the table and pulled out the stool. Seating himself on it, he folded his arms and scrutinized him again with the intrigued countenance of a scientist studying a new specimen.

“Are you Ryan?” he inquired again.

“I…” he started to answer; then stopped.

He didn’t know.

Holy fuck. Why didn’t he know?

Colin seemed to accept his inability to make conversation. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned against the table. “Storm’s blown off,” he said. “The tide’s still rough. Lots of downed branches. Lost a couple of small trees, too. I’ve been picking them up in the clearing.” He made a small, rusty sound that may have been a chuckle. “We’re set for firewood for a while.”

Again, he nodded, though Colin clearly didn’t expect an answer. Firewood? There was no fireplace in this hovel, that was for sure. Colin stopped talking again, perfectly at ease with the silence.

He eyed Colin warily, while his brain struggled to formulate the questions he needed to ask. Finally, a complete sentence came to him. “What happened?”

Colin looked back at him curiously. “You don’t know?”

He shook his head.

“Huh.” For a moment, he thought Colin wasn’t going to continue. But after a pause, he spoke again. “There was a storm. A bad one. And you just washed up in it.” He inclined his head at the blanket. “I think your leg’s broken.”

He frowned. “I don’t think – oh, shit!” Moving his left leg sent a lightning bolt of pain shooting up his calf. He gritted his teeth, and when it subsided, he was irritated and a little nervous to see Colin looking mildly amused.

“We’ll splint it up,” Colin told him. He cleared his throat, then rose to his feet. Moving to the other side of the room, he asked, “You hungry?”

“N-no…”

Colin turned back to him with a metal cup in his hands. He held it out. “Water,” he said, when his offering was met with a blank look.

Hesitantly, he took the cup that Colin was still holding and peered into it. It was water, all right. It looked and smelled clean enough. He took a small sip, then a great gulp as he suddenly realized he was very thirsty. The water was tepid, but soothed his parched throat and after a few more swallows, he began to feel a little more clear-headed. Okay, think… he instructed himself.

Nothing happened. He scrabbled frantically in the corners of his mind, but couldn’t latch on to any memories of how he’d gotten here or what had happened before that. A storm, Colin had said. You just washed up it in it. Washed up in a storm? From where? He tried to picture it, but drew a blank.

More terrifyingly, he couldn’t remember what his name was. Or who he was. Or anything prior to waking up in this hut with this reticent man. Colin.

“Colin?”

Colin had bent over a wooden crate filled with what looked like several different kinds of fruit, and he looked over his shoulder at the sound of his name. He didn’t speak, but his expression was questioning, waiting for further dialogue. Looking into the calm brown eyes, he felt himself relaxing a little. Colin was sort of strange, but he’d been kind enough. Hell, he’d probably saved his life. He might as well trust him – he knew nothing about his current circumstances, but he was starting to get the impression that his options were going to be limited.

Colin’s eyes were still on him, patient and calm.

“Uh… You asked me if my name was Ryan?”

Colin nodded. “Is it?” he inquired.

He shook his head slowly. “I have no idea.” Saying the words aloud was even more frightening than thinking them. He swallowed hard, and his hands grappled nervously at the scratchy blanket over his knees.

Colin appeared unperturbed. He straightened up, holding two oranges. “I’ll call you Ryan, then,” he said simply. “Unless you remember differently.”

Ryan nodded, accepting the orange that Colin handed him.

It was as good a name as any.


	3. Chapter 3

When it came to talking, Colin was out of practice. His voice seemed to have gone rusty from lack of use, growing scratchy after just a few sentences. He had to constantly drink water to soothe it. While Ryan napped, he ended up making another trip to the spring to refill the pail. Replacing the full container in the hut, he took a quick look at Ryan. He was still sleeping, so Colin slipped away to finish his inspection of the storm’s destruction.

Outside, he examined the hut for structural damage. There wasn’t anything major that he could see. A few places in the roof that would need some patching, that was all. He smiled with satisfaction. It had taken him the better part of a year to get his shelter this sturdy and weather-proof, and he was proud of his handiwork.

The sun beat down with renewed determination. Although the trees still glistened with rainwater, here in the clearing it was hot and dry. Earlier, Colin had stripped off his shirt. Now he lay on the ground, letting the rays soak into his skin. Arms pillowed beneath his head, he gazed at the sky. Soft white clouds drifted languidly across a cerulean backdrop. High above, a sea gull swooped and soared on outstretched wings. Nature had forgiven the earth for whatever it was that had invoked her vengeance, and land, sea, and sky were now at peace.

Colin stretched, and sighed with profound contentment. It was moments like this that he knew for sure he had everything he'd ever need or want. As a young man, he’d thought that security meant having a nice house, a good car, and a steady paycheck. He’d defined happiness in terms of friends and fun times.

Years later, Colin knew differently. All he needed was a roof over his head and enough food and water to sustain him. And if those things came with warm sand, a sapphire ocean, and a sky that went on to infinity, he could exist not only comfortably, but blissfully. He wouldn’t trade his solitary existence here in his private paradise for anything he’d once known in the “real” world.

And certainly not for the purgatory that had been his prison cell. A small frown shadowed his face as he pictured it. No smaller than his beloved beach hut, but whereas the hut was home, that slab of cold concrete penned in by metal bars made him feel like a bird in a cage – a bird like the gull that still soared high above, swooping and diving in a joyful ballet. But Colin had been a trapped, miserable bird, locked away and fed on the crumbs of abuse from surly prison guards. “Stinking animal,” they’d called him. And that was exactly the way he’d felt.

“Colin?” The tentative voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see Ryan leaning unsteadily against the doorway. Colin had cut a downed tree branch with his axe and splinted Ryan’s injured leg, but it was still difficult for him to walk. As Colin watched, Ryan stumbled forward towards the large tree stump that served as a stool. Holding his arms gingerly out to the side, Ryan struggled to seat himself. Colin sat up to help, and got him situated with his bad leg stuck out in front of him.

They sat without speaking for several moments. Ryan’s eyes darted about nervously, taking in the surrounding trees, and the stretch of warm, clean sand leading to the beach. Occasionally he cut his eyes towards Colin, but looked away quickly when he met Colin’s interested gaze. Finally, he spoke.

“How long have you been here?” he asked hesitantly.

Colin had to think about that, counting back in his mind. “Thirteen years.”

Ryan sucked in his breath, and stared wide-eyed at Colin. “Thirteen _years?_ ” he repeated incredulously. He sagged on the stump, dropping his head so it was nearly in his lap. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. He let out a long shaky breath, and seemed to be struggling for composure. Finally, he raised his head. A funny half smile crossed his face.

“Well, you seem to have the survival thing down.”

“Yes.”

Ryan looked around. Gesturing in the direction of the trees, he asked “Is that where you get the fruit?”

“Yes,” Colin repeated.

Ryan sighed. “I guess you go fishing too, huh?” Colin nodded. “What about hunting? You probably don’t have a rifle or anything.”

“No,” Colin said in response to the question about the gun. “I set snares. There are wild turkeys sometimes.”

Ryan’s face was ashen, but he swallowed determinedly. “Well, look…” he said. “I’ll help out with all of that. Just tell me what I need to do. It’ll be easier now, with two of us. And… when my leg heals, I’ll get started building my own shelter. Until then, I’ll sleep on the floor. Or… outside, if you don’t want me in there. I don’t want to put you out of your bed again.”

Colin regarded him curiously, head tilted to the side as he listened to Ryan’s babbling. He started to speak, but had to pause to clear his throat. He shook his head ruefully. He was certainly out of practice using his voice.

Meanwhile, Ryan let out another shuddering sigh and turned to stare out over the ocean. Colin absently followed his gaze, appraising the tide with a practiced eye. Still high. It would take a few days to return to normal.

“So how did you get here, anyway?” Ryan asked dully, after a few moments of silence.

“By boat.”

Ryan nodded. “I must have been on a boat too, huh?” He paused. “I wish I could remember…” He trailed off, fear flashing in his eyes before he swallowed again. “Was there anyone else on your boat?”

“No.” Colin cleared his throat again.

“What was it… a sailboat?”

“A motor boat. From Carey’s Island.”

“Carey’s Island?” Ryan repeated blankly. “What’s that?”

“The nearest island to here. About fifteen miles.”

Ryan whipped his head around. “Wait a minute – there’s an island fifteen miles from here? I mean, one that... people know about? Are there people living there?’

“Well, yes…” Colin paused, going down the list of names in his mind. “There’s Drew, at the store. And Chip. He works at the dock. And the new guy, Jonathan, and -”

“Colin!” Ryan seized his arm, and he jumped, startled. “Please tell me I’m understanding this right. There’s an island fifteen miles from here. People live on it. There are stores-”

“Just one,” Colin corrected, but Ryan talked right over him.

“So what you’re telling me is… we’re fifteen miles from civilization. I’m not stranded here?”

“No,” Colin said. “Well, maybe until the tide goes down. It’s too rough now to take the motor out. Might be for a few more days.”

Ryan slid off the stump, dropping to the ground with a thud. Colin winced as the splinted leg bounced, but Ryan didn’t seem to notice. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Holy shit,” he sputtered, shaking his head in disbelief. “When you said you’d been here thirteen years, I thought you were shipwrecked. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life here.” He threw his curly head back and laughed, a joyful sound. “And all this time -” – he was starting to sound a bit hysterical – “you’ve had a motor boat. And you can get me out of here? Over to that other island? I can get on a boat from there, right?” He turned a beaming face to Colin.

“Yes,” Colin confirmed. “Jonathan can get you a boat.”

Ryan began laughing again, giddy with relief. “Oh, thank god. Thank fucking god!”

“Ryan…” Ryan turned to look at him, still giggling a bit maniacally.

“Where will you go?”

Ryan stopped laughing.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, he wasn’t shipwrecked. That was the good news. He’d had the good fortune to wash up from the ocean right at someone’s front door. And once the tide calmed down enough for a small motor boat to navigate the waves, Colin had assured him he could take him to the big island. From there he could get to Hawaii, roughly fifty miles away.

The bad news was he had no idea what to do next. As Colin had pointed out, he didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know anything.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He knew what Hawaii was, for one thing. But he didn’t know whether he lived there. Or how he’d gotten here. Colin said there had been no sign of a boat, other people, or any kind of identification on him, except for a letter addressed to “Ryan”. The name meant nothing to him. Neither did the content of the letter, written by someone named “Greg”.

He’d read it over and over, hoping it would spark something, anything, in his fucked up brain that would give him a clue as to what was going on. But nothing came to him. It was as though he’d begun to exist at the moment he woke up in Colin’s hut yesterday. _I wasn’t born yesterday, you know._ The irony of the clichéd expression brought a grim smile to his face.

See, he even knew clichés. He just couldn’t recall an incident in which he might have used one.

For the thousandth time, he scrutinized the letter, studying the blurred ink and the neat handwriting. He tried to piece together a back story. So Ryan and Greg had been a couple, and Greg had cheated with someone named Wayne. And now Ryan wouldn’t give that unfaithful bastard Greg the time of day. Well, good on Ryan.

_Ryan._

That was him. So it seemed. He mouthed the name silently, forming the shape of the letters on his lips and tongue with deliberate care and grasping for some sense that he’d done it before. A little déjà vu was all he asked, since actually knowing his own damn name was too much to hope for. But he wasn’t to be given even that small comfort.

Ryan sighed and let the letter fall on the cot. Heaving himself to his feet, he grasped the edge of the table and limped to the door, clumsy on his splinted leg. Looking out to the beach, he spotted Colin. Although the surf was still rough, he'd gone out waist high in the water with a fishing net. Pausing just inside the door, Ryan observed him.

Colin puzzled Ryan nearly as much as the circumstances he’d found himself in. He rarely spoke of his own accord, and his answers to Ryan’s questions were brief. It wasn’t that he was reluctant to speak. It just seemed to be something he had to work at. It made sense, Ryan supposed. Anyone living alone on an island for thirteen years would probably lose the gift of gab. 

Even though he was a little weird, Ryan kind of liked the guy. For one thing, Colin had saved his life. With scant detail, he'd told him that he’d swum out in the storm and pulled him to shore. When Ryan thanked him, he seemed genuinely surprised by his gratitude. As though risking his own life to save him meant nothing. 

He'd been an easy, undemanding companion during the past two days while Ryan had been lost in thought, struggling to find his past. Colin moved unobtrusively about his daily routine, leaving Ryan to sort through the enormity of what was happening to him. But he never went far, and returned at regular intervals to provide meals for both of them. Ryan found his presence comforting in the midst of his inner turmoil.

As Ryan watched, Colin emerged from the water with a net full of fish, which he emptied into a bucket on the beach. He strolled unhurriedly back to the hut, where he nodded a greeting and set his bucket on the floor. "Good catch today," was his only remark. He went to one of the open ended wooden crates that served as cupboards and retrieved a large sheet of plastic, which he spread over the table. From another crate, he fetched a large knife, and skillfully began to clean the fish.

"Can I help you with that?" Ryan offered, though it looked pretty disgusting. "I mean, if you show me how, I can help." 

Colin smiled at him and then inclined his head towards the fish in front of him. "Cut the fins first." He demonstrated. "Then here, by the tail." It was stomach churning, but Ryan hesitantly picked up another knife and followed Colin's instructions.

"What kind of fish is this?"

"Onchorhynus mykiss," Colin replied, sliding his knife along the fish's belly. Ryan looked up, startled. Noticing his confusion, Colin clarified, "Trout."

Ryan regarded him curiously. "What was that first thing you said?"

"Species onchorynus. Genus mykiss. Rainbow trout."

"Oh. That's the scientific name, huh?"

Colin nodded. Ryan stuck his knife in the fish, grimacing, and tried to pull it across the way Colin had demonstrated. It caught in the tough flesh and made a jagged gouge rather than a neat slit. Colin paused in his own work to watch, then reached over and adjusted Ryan's fingers on the knife. His hand was large and calloused, with a firm touch.

The new grip helped. The knife moved more smoothly. Ryan succeeded in opening the fish's belly and glanced at Colin, pleased. Colin gave him an approving nod and resumed his own work. Reluctant to start on the next step, severing the head, Ryan ventured another question. "I guess you get to know a lot about fish living here, huh? The scientific names and all." 

"Some. But I studied marine biology in college."

Ryan nearly dropped his knife in his astonishment. Colin in _college_?

Colin regarded him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye that Ryan had never seen before. "I wasn’t born on the island, you know."

Recalling his earlier musings about being "born yesterday,” Ryan smiled wryly. _You're one up on me_ , he thought. Intrigued, he watched Colin drop his last cleaned and gutted fish into a bucket, a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. Before he could speak, Colin picked up the bucket and turned away. "I'll start the fire." 

Ryan glanced over at a small metal contraption sitting on top of one of the wooden crate cupboards. “Isn’t that thing a stove?”

Colin nodded. “I save the kerosene. You never know when Drew will have more.” As usual, he didn’t elaborate, but Ryan understood. Drew was the shopkeeper at the only store on Carey’s Island. Colin had mentioned him once before. Ryan sighed as Colin left the hut. He could remember the details of this strange island community, but not his own address.

He turned back to his task, noting ruefully that it was taking him longer to clean one fish than it took Colin to do a whole bucketful. Cringing, he raised the knife. He closed his eyes briefly, then brought it down with a hard thump the way he'd seen Colin do to remove the head in one swift, clean stroke.

As he worked to dislodge the knife, which got jammed in the vicinity of the fish’s neck, he thought about Colin being college-educated. It shouldn't have shocked him - the guy was smart. He'd have to be, to survive out here with almost nothing. But that wasn't what seemed so strange, he reflected, sawing clumsily at the fish. Colin was so at home on this island. It was like he was _part_ of it, another of the many living and growing things that simply belonged to it. Ryan couldn't imagine him having a life away from here.

_Well, that's one thing we have in common_. Ryan snorted and looked down at the mangled remains of the trout in front of him. He grimaced. "Sorry, fish." He scooped up what remained of the flesh and took it outside to Colin.

Colin had gotten a fire going, and was laying the fish on a large, flat stone in the center. When Ryan presented him with his handiwork, he smiled.

“Good job,” he said, taking the sorry looking trout corpse and placing it alongside the others.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Colin, it’s a mess.”

Colin looked up at him with that mischievous twinkle in his eye again. “At least now we know you don’t work as a fish cutter.”

Ryan stared at him, then burst out laughing. So, Colin had a sense of humor. That was good, if they were going to be sharing this small space for a few more days. He knelt beside Colin and watched with interest as he sprinkled the fish with dried leaves. “What’s that?”

“Dill, tarragon, and parsley.”

“Where’d you get those?” 

“I have an herb garden.”

Ryan grinned. Of course he did. Minutes later, they were both seated on the sand, watching the waves roll in and eating deliciously seasoned fish. The sun was beginning to set, streaking the sky with pink. A cool breeze ruffled Ryan's hair. He sighed, feeling completely at ease for the first time since he'd arrived. No wonder Colin liked it here.

"Tide's going down," Colin said eventually. Ryan looked up with a start, as he did anytime Colin spoke unprompted. "Should be able to get the motor out soon. Probably not tomorrow. The day after." 

"...Oh..." was all Ryan could manage. He saw Colin glance at him, but as usual, he said nothing. Ryan traced a finger in the sand. He’d be going back to… somewhere… the day after tomorrow, then.

"It'll still be choppy," Colin said presently. "Might be hard on your leg." He nodded at the splint, which forced Ryan to sit with his leg stuck straight out.

"Bumpy ride, huh?" Ryan wasn't sure what Colin was getting at.

"I could go alone. Find out if there's been a Coast Guard alert on you."

Ryan glanced up. Colin was looking at the ocean. “If they’re searching for you, Jonathan will know. He’ll put out a call, and they’ll send a boat here. Save you the trip in the motor.”

Ryan stared at the pattern he’d been tracing in the sand. Finally, he voiced the question at the back of his mind. “What if they’re not?”

Colin waited for him to elaborate. Ryan shoved a handful of sand over his tracing and looked helplessly at Colin. “What if no one is looking for me? Maybe no one knows I’m gone, or who I am. Then what happens to me?”

“Greg?” Colin suggested.

Ryan was confused for a moment; then he remembered. The letter. He snorted. “Greg,” he repeated derisively. “That asshole. I mean, he sure sounds like one. I don’t know.” He scooped up another handful of sand, and tossed it back down in frustration. 

“I don’t know _anything_ , Colin! I have no idea who… who I _am_ , even. Why the hell would I have been out this far in the ocean by myself, in a huge storm? It wasn’t safe. It was crazy. Someone who has people that care about them wouldn’t do something dangerous like that. Maybe I don’t have any friends or family. Maybe no one cares what happens to me.”

There, he’d said it aloud. The dread that had been nagging at him all this time. The fear that he’d washed up on shore, miles away from anyone or anything, because he didn’t have anyone or anything. The thought was terrifying.

“That would make two of us, then.”

Startled, Ryan turned to look at Colin. He was still watching the ocean, but as Ryan stared, he turned to meet his eyes with a steady gaze. He reached over and laid his hand on Ryan’s knee with a firm, but gentle touch.

“Someone is probably looking for you,” he said simply, his voice reassuring. But there was an expression in his eyes that told Ryan he understood his fear. Fully and completely.

Well, of course he did, Ryan realized suddenly. Why else would he be here? He looked down on his knee. Colin’s hand still rested on it.

“But what if no one is?” he asked softly.

Colin’s hand increased its pressure ever so slightly.

“Then you have a home here.”


	5. Chapter 5

Carey’s Island was once a busy stopover for the wealthy, who built summer homes on the surrounding private islands. The fuel and boat repair station down at the dock had been a hub of activity, requiring at least two employees at any given time. Back then the general store was a tourist attraction and souvenir shop, and at one time a small café serving fresh lobster had been situated right at the water’s edge. All of that had changed years ago, when private islands became passé among the rich summer people, who moved on to more hip vacation spots. The quaint summer cottages had eventually fallen into disrepair, and been taken over (or knocked down and replaced with simpler dwellings) by the islanders who now lived here year round. 

Colin knew none of this, however, since he’d never asked, and no one had ever volunteered any information. 

Pulling alongside the grey-weathered dock, Colin cut the motor and tied up to one of the pilings. A man sat dozing in a folding canvas chair, deeply tanned legs below cut-off jeans stretched out before him. As Colin stood and hopped out of the boat, the man lifted the baseball cap covering his face and peered at him sleepily, squinting in the sun. 

“Hey, Colin,” he greeted, rising slowly from the chair. He shoved his bare feet into a pair of rubber thongs and strolled to the edge of the dock. 

“Hi, Chip.” 

Chip nodded to the motor boat. “You want gas?” 

“Yeah.” Colin reached down and retrieved a couple of small canvas bags. He left his boat in Chip’s care and headed inland. 

Half a mile from the dock, a small building crouched among the trees. A wooden porch ran the length of it, and a rocking chair sat to the left of the open door. Colin had never seen anyone sit in it. On the other side of the door, a faded sign proclaimed “General Store and Eatery”. The word “eatery” was crossed out with heavy black marker.

Colin climbed the steps, careful to avoid the loose board in the second from the top. As he entered the dim interior, a heavy-set, bespectacled man shuffled out of the back room. He loomed behind the counter, eyeing Colin suspiciously. Colin nodded in greeting. “Drew.” 

Drew said nothing, and continued to stare at Colin as though he were a potential shoplifter. Colin had been to the general store every month or two for the last thirteen years, and Drew watched him like a hawk each time. On the few occasions that Colin could recall another customer there at the same time, Drew had nearly collapsed from the effort of trying to keep tabs on both of them. Chip had once told him that Drew was a descendent of the Careys for whom the island was named. He also claimed that Drew was “not right in the head”. Colin didn’t know if either of those things was true, though he’d be willing to bet on the latter. 

Colin roamed the store, browsing the contents of the randomly stocked shelves. He gathered a number of canned food items, occasionally returning up front to deposit them on the countertop when his hands grew full. It occurred to him to wonder what Ryan liked to eat – not that it really mattered, since he was at the mercy of Drew’s inventory. But when he spotted a can of artichokes, he took them. He didn’t like artichokes, but maybe Ryan did. 

At the front of the store, Colin added a spool of fishing line and a package of toothbrushes to his groceries. He set his selections on the counter in front of Drew. “Got any kerosene?” he asked. Drew shook his head, looking at the cash register keys as he began ringing Colin’s purchases. 

“Matches?” 

Drew turned his back and moved slowly to a shelf behind the counter, floor boards creaking under his weight. He retrieved a box of one hundred matches, and continued ringing the items. When he was done, the total showed in the small register window facing Colin. Drew waited wordlessly as Colin pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. He accepted the money with thick fingers, gave Colin the correct change, and watched silently while Colin packed his purchases into his canvas bags. He could feel Drew’s eyes boring into his back as he walked out into the blinding sunlight.

Shopping done, Colin walked over to the only other operational business establishment on Carey’s Island, which was referred to simply as “the hub”. It was a combination junkyard and communication center. The ground outside the small building served as a repository for discarded lumber, clothing, dishes, and other items which the island residents dropped off when they no longer wanted them. Any object left at the hub was free for the taking. Colin had obtained some of the lumber for his shelter here. 

Today, he had a more pressing errand. 

Inside the hub was a two way radio connecting Carey’s Island to the Coast Guard. In an emergency, a rescue boat could be summoned. It also housed the only phone in the entire archipelago of Carey’s Island and the surrounding private islands. On the rare occasions that an islander needed to talk to someone in the outside world, they came here. In addition, as there was no mail delivery, anything not readily available could be obtained by putting in a request with Jonathan, the hub’s young proprietor. Jonathan in turn contacted the mainland to locate the item. He’d then arrange for delivery via the boat that arrived at the dock every few weeks (“or so”, as Chip qualified). 

The boat also carried inventory for the store and medical supplies for Heather, a young woman who was said to have graduated medical school. She was able to tend to most minor illnesses. Colin had never needed her services, but it was nice to know they were available. 

“Morning!” 

The chipper voice startled Colin. He looked up to see Jonathan coming around the side of the small building, lugging a section of scrolled iron fence. “I don’t suppose you have any use for this?” When Colin shook his head, he propped it against the side of the building. “This is the third time Mr. McShane has brought a piece of this thing over. It’s all around his property. I keep telling him that no one cares about making their land look like a resort. That was for the rich folks. That’s why McShane is tearing it down, right?” He grinned, and Colin smiled in return. Jonathan had come to Carey’s Island about two years ago, ever since his grandfather – who used to run the hub – had died. Colin figured it would be another couple of years before he ran out of things to say. 

Colin stood listening to Jonathan talk, wondering how to broach the subject of Ryan. When the younger man paused for breath, he glanced about at the eclectic collection of items surrounding the building. “Any nails around?” 

Jonathan wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. “Huh. Well, McShane just took a whole pile. But…” he turned to look behind him. “There should be more somewhere.” He began lifting the lids of the various storage containers surrounding the building. “You got repairs to do to your place from the storm?” 

“A few,” Colin affirmed, helping him look through the bins. 

“You and everyone else,” Jonathan remarked, unearthing a couple of nails. “These okay?” At Colin’s nod, he handed them over and returned to the search. “I never saw a storm that bad before.” 

That gave Colin an opening. “Any calls come in from the Coast Guard?” he inquired, pocketing the nails. 

Jonathan glanced up. “No. Why?” 

Colin hesitated for a moment. “I thought I saw a boat out in it.” The words coming from his own mouth surprised him. 

“I hope not. No one could have survived that.” 

“No…” Colin paused. “No one reported missing, either?” 

“Nope. I was at the radio through the whole thing. And nothing’s come in since.” He regarded Colin curiously. “When did you see the boat?” 

Colin shrugged uncomfortably. “I might have imagined it. Probably just a log or something.”

“Yeah, probably.” Jonathan held up a large handful of shiny, new-looking nails. “Ta-da!” 

Colin accepted the nails Jonathan held out with a smile of thanks. He ventured one last question. “Any news from the mainland?” Jonathan was the islanders’ source of current events. 

Jonathan shrugged. “Nothing big. The usual political nonsense. You looking for anything in particular?” 

“No. Just wondering.” Colin lingered a moment longer. _Well, go on_ , he thought. _Tell him about Ryan_. 

And then he was turning away from the hub, headed back to the dock armed with his bags of provisions, the nails, and a piece of plywood that might come in handy some time, without having said a word about Ryan. 

At least he’d confirmed that there hadn’t been a Coast Guard call out for him. The hub received radio transmissions from as far off as Hawaii. Logically, that was the only place that Ryan could have come from; there wasn’t anything closer. So, if he’d been reported missing, there would have been a search extending as far as Honolulu, and Jonathan would have picked up a report. 

The fact that there was no search underway for Ryan led Colin to two possibilities. One, Ryan’s fears were accurate, and no one was looking for him because there was no one close enough to him to know he was missing. 

Or, perhaps, Colin acknowledged, Ryan had been missed by someone, who was unaware that he’d been in Hawaii. In which case they wouldn’t know, unless Colin had Jonathan message the mainland. Then again, why wouldn’t Ryan have told anyone he was going to Hawaii? That made no sense. 

Well, he’d go back to the hub and tell Jonathan the whole story, Colin assured himself. Soon. 

Slowly approaching the dock, Colin wondered why he hadn’t told Jonathan about Ryan then and there. _Because being taken to the mainland where he doesn’t know anyone – doesn’t even know who HE is – would be too much for Ryan. He’s comfortable here. He’s safe. I can take care of him for now, until he’s ready_. The explanation satisfied Colin. 

Still, as he paid Chip for his gas and loaded up the motor boat, the full truth nagged, demanding to be acknowledged. _Well, all right, he conceded_. 

He just wanted to keep Ryan to himself for a while.


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn’t that he was _snooping_ , Ryan told himself. He was just familiarizing himself with the supplies in case he needed them in an emergency. Of course, if he happened to stumble across something that offered a glimpse into Colin’s past, he could hardly help that, could he? 

Early that morning, Colin had taken the motor boat over to the big island. Ryan was curious about Carey’s Island, but he’d been relieved when Colin suggested he stay here. It meant waiting several hours before he’d know what, if anything, Colin learned… but that was fine by him. 

Ryan reached into one of the wooden crates and drew out a ball of twine. He examined it perfunctorily and replaced it. Good, he knew where the string was. Ryan sighed and sat down on the cot with a thump. There was nothing to indicate that Colin had ever had a life prior to living on the island. In that respect, they were very much alike.

However, the mystery of Ryan’s past might well be solved today. He felt the same unease as when Colin told him he was going to make inquiries. In spite of Colin’s reassurance, the possibility still nagged that no one was looking for him. Maybe he’d never find out who he was. It was a scary thought. 

There was something else troubling Ryan too. He hadn’t been able to articulate it to Colin – although maybe Colin knew anyway. Colin was like that. He seemed to understand things without Ryan having to tell him. 

What bothered Ryan wasn’t just that he might never find out who he was, but that he _would_. 

Maybe the whole reason he couldn’t remember anything was that his life was just too awful. People with happy, normal lives didn’t end up alone in the middle of the ocean, miles away from anywhere, during what Colin stated had been the worst storm to hit the islands in years. Maybe he’d been on the run for a terrible crime. Maybe he’d been thrown overboard a ship by a Mafia boss. Who knew? Hard as he tried, Ryan couldn’t come up with a scenario pointing to a life anyone would be anxious to return to. 

_You have a home here_. The words echoed in his mind, and a small smile touched his lips. Colin was a good guy. Ryan enjoyed his company, and the island was pretty cool. Colin had shown him around some more yesterday. Ryan now knew the island was roughly a quarter mile of private land, though he didn’t know how Colin came to own it. Nor did he know where Colin had gotten the cash he’d taken from one of the storage crates, saying he needed to buy some supplies. Ryan wanted to ask, but each time he started to form the questions, Colin moved on to other things, like showing him where the herb garden was located, or how to identify the mushrooms that were safe to eat. It seemed he didn’t want to talk about himself, and Ryan figured he had to respect that. 

However, it didn’t stop him from pushing himself up off the cot and glancing around the hut again. He examined a few other items, with a pang of guilt for his nosiness. But there was nothing informative. 

Idly, Ryan wandered over to a crate he’d already inspected, which housed a small collection of books. He tilted his head to the side to read the titles. _The Grapes of Wrath_ , _Hamlet_ , a couple of paperback science fiction novels, _Arrowsmith_ … 

_Give me a dollar. I want to play the jukebox. Dude, you’re NOT putting Aerosmith on! Fuck you, you wouldn’t know good music if it bit you in the…_

Ryan jerked his head upright. He sucked in his breath and grappled for the… memory? Did he just remember something? He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the image to come back, but it was like waking from a dream – it faded into mist, and within seconds he had lost it completely. 

The sound of a motor cut into his daze. Colin was back. Putting his confusion aside for the time being, Ryan hobbled out of the hut and down the beach to where Colin had just arrived in the motor boat. 

His back to Ryan, Colin was unloading several canvas bags and a big piece of wood. Though he couldn’t have missed the sound of Ryan’s clumsy approach, he didn’t look up until Ryan was at his side. Nothing in his expression revealed anything. 

“So?” Ryan inquired anxiously. 

Colin straightened up completely, looking into Ryan’s apprehensive face with his usual level gaze. “No word from the Coast Guard.” 

He wasn’t sure whether it was relief or dismay or some combination of both, but the emotion hit Ryan like a punch in the stomach. He might have collapsed to the ground if the splint on his leg hadn’t made it too difficult. But his shoulders sagged and his head fell nearly to his chest. He stayed there for a long moment, feeling Colin’s eyes on him. 

There was a brief touch on his shoulder. “It takes a while for news from the mainland to get here. There could still be someone further away who knows you’re missing. I’ll go back in a few days.” Colin cleared his throat, as he often did when speaking more than a few words at a time. 

Ryan straightened up, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. “Yeah. Thanks, Colin.” He stood silently for a moment, staring unseeingly off into the trees. 

“Come on,” Colin said suddenly. Ryan looked back at him distractedly. 

“Huh?” 

“Come on,” Colin repeated. He stepped into the boat and reached a hand out. It took Ryan a second to realize he was meant to take it, and let Colin help him into the boat. After a brief hesitation, he did. 

Colin started up the motor and headed the boat out. The ocean glistened crystal blue beneath them, and a fine mist sprayed Ryan’s face. “Where are we going?” he asked dully. 

“There’s something I want you to see,” was all Colin said. Ryan sighed and settled back for the ride. He was startled when Colin cut the motor only a few hundred yards out, well within sight of the island. To his surprise, Colin spoke first. 

“It doesn’t always happen. But we’ll see.” 

“What doesn’t always happen?” Colin would only smile over his shoulder in reply. He looked out over the water and appeared to be watching for something. Ryan resigned himself to waiting. 

It was nice out here, surrounded by clear blue water. The boat bobbed gently on the surf. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, promising another glorious sunset. Ryan felt himself relaxing. He trailed his hand in the water, letting it splash his arms. 

_Cannonball!! Mom, he’s splashing! The smell of chlorine… big rubber inner tube…who wants peanut butter and jelly…_

Ryan’s head shot up. He groped at the corners of his mind, trying to hang on to the little scene before it disappeared, but once again it slipped from his grasp and disintegrated like a puff of smoke. He clutched at his temples as though he could physically pull it back, but it was gone. 

“Colin…” he began, but before the word passed his lips, Colin had reached over and grasped his wrist. With his other hand, he pointed. His mind still muddled, Ryan looked in the direction Colin indicated. He frowned, not seeing anything. Then suddenly, he gasped in astonishment. 

They were magnificent. Sleek, silvery grey, diving through the waves in a graceful water ballet. The dolphins circled closer to the boat, their movements perfectly in tune with one another, until Ryan and Colin were surrounded. They continued diving and surfacing, showering the two men with droplets of water that caught rainbow prisms of color in the setting sun. They chattered among themselves with high pitched squeaking sounds. Friendly button eyes in cheerful, bulbous faces peered at Ryan and Colin curiously as they swam and played. 

Colin reached out to stroke a large, smooth head while Ryan watched, enchanted. Following Colin’s example, he put out a hand and felt the cool slippery flesh glide beneath his fingers. He laughed out loud. Colin beamed at him, his pleasure in Ryan’s delight apparent. 

As suddenly as they had come, the dolphins departed, swimming and diving in their synchronized harmony far out over the ocean. Ryan stared after them until he could no longer see a single trace of silver-grey. He exhaled deeply. A smile spread across his face and peacefulness warmed his soul. 

Colin started up the motor and headed back to shore. They made the short trip in silence. It wasn’t until the boat was tied up and they were on the stretch of beach in front of the hut that Ryan was able to speak. 

“Colin, that was _amazing_.” 

Colin smiled, and sat down on the sand. Ryan followed suit, sticking his splinted leg out before him. 

“They don’t always come,” Colin said. “But I thought they would tonight, since the water was so rough before. I think they miss it when they can’t come.” 

Ryan shook his head, still awed by the experience. “It was just… it was…” 

“It makes everything all right. Whatever else happens, it’s still a good world, when there are things like dolphins in the ocean.” 

It was exactly what Ryan had been feeling, but couldn’t express. He stared at Colin at astonishment. Colin didn’t notice. He had his arms wrapped around his knees, his chin resting on his kneecaps. He was gazing pensively at the sun, which was setting in a fiery burst of red-orange over the horizon. 

“However bad it was in the beginning, I could always go out there with the dolphins. They made me see that everything was going to be all right.” 

Ryan’s breath caught. Was Colin going to talk about himself at last? He waited, but Colin had gone silent again. Finally, Ryan spoke. 

“Colin? What… what was it like for you, before you came here? I mean -” 

Colin replied without looking at him. 

“I was in prison.” 

Ryan froze. He couldn’t have heard that right. 

“What did you say?” 

“I was in prison,” Colin repeated. He turned to face Ryan. Their eyes locked and held for a long moment. 

Ryan nodded slowly, feeling a sickening tightness in his chest. “You were in prison,” he repeated. Just to clarify. 

"Yes." 

“For… for how long?” _30 days_ , he willed Colin to say. _A DUI violation. I went to AA and never drank again_. Or even better, _Overnight. A peaceful demonstration. We refused to disperse and they threw us behind bars. We sang ‘We Shall Overcome’_. 

“Eleven years.” Colin’s voice remained level. He looked into Ryan’s eyes with his usual composure. 

Now Ryan’s heart was thudding in his chest. His breathing was rapid. He tasted bile at the back of his throat. He swallowed hard, not wanting to know; needing to know. 

“What were you in prison for?” His voice was barely audible, but Colin heard. He answered in the same even voice. 

“Rape and murder.” 

The sand seemed to shift underneath Ryan, spinning until he was dizzy. Nauseated, he struggled to his feet. His breath came in short, hard gasps as he sprinted across the sand as fast as his injured leg would carry him. 

Which wasn't very fast. Any desert island dwelling rapist-murderer who wanted to catch up to him would have very little trouble doing so. So when Ryan tripped over a piece of driftwood, only a few yards from his starting point, he simply lay there with his eyes squeezed shut, willing Colin to make it fast. Sure enough, in mere seconds he heard the soft crunching sound of Colin's sneakers on sand as he approached Ryan at his usual unhurried pace. 

"Are you going to swim for it?" Colin sounded exasperated. "The odds of washing up alive on another inhabited island aren't very good." When Ryan only stared up at him, Colin dropped his arms to his sides and looked out over the water. "Look," he said finally. There was a slight tremor in his voice. It was the most emotion Ryan had ever seen him reveal. "Let me tell you about it. Then I'll take you to Carey's Island tomorrow, and they'll call in the Coast Guard to bring you to Hawaii." 

Colin cleared his throat and watched Ryan, who remained frozen on the ground. His eyes probed Ryan’s, questioningly. Asking for… what? Forgiveness? Understanding? Ryan wasn’t sure as he looked back at Colin. 

Colin, who had saved his life, and offered him a home for as long as he needed one. Colin, who had given him the gift of the dolphins, and calmed his troubled soul by showing him that yes, there was goodness and beauty in the world, even for Ryan who didn’t know his own last name. 

Ryan owed Colin more than he could ever hope to repay. He could at least start by giving him a chance to explain himself. 

Ryan took Colin’s outstretched hand and allowed him to help him to his feet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***CHAPTER WARNING*** This chapter contains a scene of non-consensual sex and violence. It isn't graphic, but it's there.

Teaching high school science wasn’t Colin’s dream job. But it paid the bills while he studied nights towards his PhD in marine biology. It had its upside too, in the form of the occasional student who showed a genuine interest in zooplankton and manatees, and made teaching fun. 

Jeff Davis was one of those students. For the first few weeks of the school year, Colin had scarcely noticed him. Tall and gangly with dark hair that constantly fell into his eyes, he spent the class periods hunched in a too small chair, eyes on his notebook while around him the other kids whispered and threw paper airplanes. He listened attentively to Colin’s lectures, but never participated in discussions. 

Until the day Colin began a unit on marine animals. Jeff was silent in class as always, but he surprised Colin by lingering at the dismissal bell to shyly inquire whether there were stingrays at the local beach. 

“Well, there are rays in the Pacific Ocean,” Colin replied, pleased at his interest. “But it’s not likely you’d see one from the shore, or where you swim. Around here they live much farther out, where the water is deeper.” 

Jeff nodded, and with his eyes on Colin’s desk blotter said, “I was just wondering. One time I saw something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. It was too far out. It was kind of flat with long things trailing behind it.” 

“Hmm,” Colin mused. “It could have been a man o’ war. You see those around sometimes.” 

“That’s a jellyfish, right?” 

“Not exactly. They’re similar, but they’re actually made up of a lot of separate organisms that depend on one another for survival.” 

Jeff glanced up, meeting Colin’s eyes for the first time. “Cool.” 

Colin grinned. “You can read about them in your text book. We’ll discuss them during class tomorrow.” 

Jeff stood by Colin’s desk for a moment longer, fingering the wire on his spiral notebook. “Are you going to talk about stingrays sometime too?” 

Colin had planned to cover them as part of a larger unit, but he suddenly remembered a videotape he had at home, a fascinating documentary about rays. He nodded. “Sure am. With a video and everything.” 

A smile lit up Jeff’s normally impassive face. “Cool,” he said again, and then slipped away to his next class. 

Colin began observing Jeff during class, and realized that he was intrigued by all kinds of sea creatures, though he had a particular fondness for stingrays. He aced the test Colin gave on aquatic animals, and when written reports were assigned, Jeff turned in a thoroughly researched and detailed account of rays that put some of Colin’s own college papers to shame. 

Once, strolling the aisles while his students took a pop quiz, Colin passed by Jeff’s desk and caught sight of a large bruise that wasn’t quite covered by his shirt sleeve. He paused, taking a closer look. Jeff felt his eyes on him and glanced up. Colin quickly smiled and moved on. Probably nothing, he told himself. Boys were always rough housing and getting banged up. 

When it came time to plan a field trip, Colin specifically chose an outing to an aquarium that offered a private lagoon where visitors could touch and feed stingrays. He was sure Jeff would be thrilled, but when he didn’t sign up for the trip, Colin stopped him after class to ask why. Jeff was evasive, but finally mumbled that he couldn’t afford the student admission fee. 

Colin paid Jeff’s admission himself, claiming another student had dropped out and the money was non-refundable, leaving an open space. He doubted Jeff was fooled, but the boy couldn’t conceal his eagerness when he agreed to come on the trip. The outing was a rousing success with all of the kids; but wading in the shallow water with his beloved stingrays, Jeff radiated a joyful glow that warmed Colin’s heart. On the bus ride back to school, Jeff sat beside Colin and talked more than he had the entire semester, chattering about the rays and asking how people got jobs at the aquarium. 

In class, Jeff grew more animated, raising his hand to ask questions and occasionally participating in discussions. He still had days of being silent and withdrawn, but Colin chalked it up to shyness, and was pleased enough with the progress Jeff had made. 

One evening before his Wave Physics class, Colin spotted a notice on the university bulletin board. Summer internships were available for high school students. The pay was a pittance, and the work basically amounted to cleaning fish tanks in the labs, but Colin took an application for Jeff anyway. 

As he hoped, Jeff was enthusiastic, but his face fell when he realized the campus was twenty miles from his home, and there was no direct bus route. 

“I’ll be taking summer classes. I’ll drive you,” Colin offered, before he thought. Too much familiarity between teachers and students was frowned upon. Still, the internship was relevant to Jeff’s education, and Colin decided that a short car ride a few days a week couldn’t be viewed as inappropriate. 

On the strength of his grades and a recommendation letter from Colin, Jeff was granted an internship. His work began on the same day as Colin’s first summer class, shortly after the high school closed for the summer. When Colin pulled up at a small house, he found Jeff waiting on the front steps. The windows were open and Colin could hear shouting from inside as Jeff hurried to the car and got in. He didn’t say a word, just yanked the seatbelt across his chest. Colin glanced toward the house. 

“Is everything all right?” 

“Yeah. Fine.” Jeff replied shortly. Colin hesitated, then started up the car. A family argument was none of his business. He changed the subject to Jeff’s internship and was relieved when Jeff perked up and began asking questions about the lab he’d be working in. 

The summer was off to a great start. Jeff thrived in the lab, thrilled at the opportunity to see dozens of marine life specimens up close. Meanwhile, Colin’s days were spent mostly on the beach rather than a classroom, studying anemones and starfish with snorkels and masks. He was more certain than ever that this was the life for him. 

Occasionally, the class went out on boats to observe the larger animals that lived deeper in the ocean. Colin asked his professor if Jeff could come along on one of the excursions, and the request was granted. Jeff was ecstatic, and when the boat came upon a fever of stingrays, his face was reverential, almost holy. Colin watched him, smiling. Moving to stand beside him, he laid his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. Jeff beamed at him, then turned his attention back to the rays. 

One Friday afternoon, Colin had to see his advisor to discuss his thesis. The meeting ran longer than he expected. Jeff was waiting in the campus library when Colin hurried to meet him. He assured Colin he hadn’t minded the delay, but it was after six o’clock and Colin knew Jeff must be tired and hungry. On the way home, he offered to treat him at a local pizza place. They had a pleasant, leisurely meal, discussing the topic of Colin’s thesis, the hatching plasticity of marine snails. To Colin’s somewhat startled pleasure, Jeff appeared genuinely interested. 

It was close to eight o’clock when Colin pulled up at Jeff’s house. Once again, he heard yelling coming from the open windows. He looked worriedly at Jeff, who had a grim, but resigned expression on his face. The front door opened and a dark haired man stumbled down the walk, shouting incoherently as he approached. Colin touched Jeff’s wrist. “Jeff, let’s-” 

Before he could say anything further, the man lurched up to the car, leaning on the driver’s side door and peering in at Colin. He reeked of alcohol. 

“You the mother fucker who’s been banging my son?” 

Colin recoiled. “What?” 

“Dad…” Jeff groaned. The man pointed a shaking finger at Colin. 

“I know about you,” he slurred. “You’re the queer teacher from the school.” 

Colin glanced quickly at Jeff. He had never told Jeff anything about his sexuality; in fact, very few people knew he was gay. He wasn’t ashamed by any means, but as a school teacher it was something he found was best to keep to himself. However, he apparently hadn’t fooled everyone. 

“Hey, s’okay with me,” the man went on, lolling against the door. “I don’t give a shit what you do, ya know? Just don’t touch my damn kid.” 

A small sound came from Jeff, somewhere between a sob and a sigh. 

“Mr. Davis,” Colin began. “I assure you, I have _never_ -” 

“Jeff!” the man bellowed. “Get in the goddamn house. You’re out all day with this queer and you don’t come home when you’re supposed to. You fucking him?” When Jeff didn’t answer, he stumbled around to the other side of the car. Colin quickly opened his door. 

“Take your hands off him!” he commanded as Jeff’s father reached through the car window and grabbed Jeff’s shoulder. 

“Little queer,” he spat in Jeff’s ear. “I found those magazines you got under your mattress. Sick queer shit. How long you been fucking this guy, huh?” 

Jeff buried his face in his hands just as Colin reached his father and seized his arm, yanking him away from Jeff. The man took an ineffectual swing at Colin, who shoved him on the ground. He tried to get up, but Colin pinned him down with a foot planted on his chest. 

“Listen,” he hissed at Jeff’s father. “You keep your hands off your son, and leave him the hell alone.” Behind him, the car door opened and closed, and Jeff took off running down the street. Colin looked quickly over his shoulder. “Jeff!” he called. But Jeff had disappeared around the corner. 

“Goddamn bastard,” Jeff’s father mumbled. He was fading fast; in another minute he would pass out. Colin tentatively lifted his foot. When the man didn’t attempt to get up, he returned to his car and quickly drove off, riding around town for over an hour in search of Jeff. He didn’t find him. 

Colin returned to the house the next morning. He sat in his car for several minutes, hoping Jeff would see him and come outside. When no one appeared, he reluctantly went up the front walk and rang the bell. There was no answer, and after a few more rings, he left. 

He wondered if he should call the police or social services. But Jeff’s father hadn’t physically harmed him. All Colin could report to the authorities was that he had been verbally abusive – to Colin for being gay, and to Jeff for apparently having some secret gay-interest reading material. That would only hurt Jeff in the long run. Not to mention putting Colin’s job on the line. 

He drove by again on Sunday, but there was still no sign of Jeff. On Monday morning, he arrived at the usual time to pick Jeff up for the university. Jeff wasn’t waiting on the steps. Colin’s stomach clenched. He got out of the car and went to the front door. But though he rang the bell and knocked for several minutes, no one answered. He finally had to go on to class. 

That evening he stopped by again, and this time there was a car by the curb with two people in the front seat. As he stepped out of his own car, the passenger door of the other car opened and a familiar figure stumbled out. 

“You!” Jeff’s father yelled, staggering towards him. “Didn’t I fucking tell you to stay away from my kid?” 

Colin held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Mr. Davis, please. I just wanted to know if Jeff is all right. He didn’t show up for work today.” 

“He’s not goin’ back there,” Davis slurred. He tried to shove something into his pocket, but it fell. He was too out of it to notice. Colin’s eyes flicked to the object lying on the street. A plastic bag of white powder. He glanced at the car, and saw the driver eyeing him suspiciously. It all fell into place. Colin sighed. Poor Jeff… his father was not only a drunk, but a junkie. 

“Mr. Davis…” Colin took a tentative step towards him. As he moved, the car door opened and a young man with lank, greasy hair stepped out. 

“He giving you a hard time, Davis?” Colin glanced over at him. He folded tattooed arms over his chest and eyed Colin menacingly. 

“I don’t want trouble,” Colin told him. “I came here to check on a student of mine. He didn’t show up for his internship today, and I was worried.”

“Yeah, you’re worried he found some other guy to fuck!” Jeff’s father sputtered. “I told you, get the hell out of here!”

“I think you better do what he says, pal,” the dealer added. Colin looked back and forth between the two, weighing his options. The last thing he wanted was a fight. But if Jeff was in the house, he needed to get him out of there. He’d seen enough now to know that he had to go to the authorities, for Jeff’s safety. Hopefully he’d be able to protect Jeff’s privacy – and his own. 

As he hesitated, Davis suddenly lunged – but not at him. He grabbed the dealer’s shoulders, groping at him. “Gimme it!” he demanded. 

The dealer tried to shake him off. “What the fuck?” Then, to Colin’s horror, Davis found what he was looking for - a gun, which he snatched out of the dealer’s pocket and pointed at Colin. 

“Hey, man – take it easy!” The dealer eyed Davis apprehensively. “Come on, give it here.” 

Davis ignored him and advanced toward Colin, holding the gun clumsily in a shaky hand. “You gonna leave my kid alone?”

The dealer seized the opportunity and jumped into his car. The acrid smell of burnt rubber hung in the air as he peeled off down the street. 

Colin eyed Davis appraisingly. He was either very drunk, very high, or both. He could barely walk, let alone handle the gun. Colin took a deep breath, then with all his might, he raised his arm and brought his fist crashing down on Davis’ wrist. The gun clattered to the ground and Colin dove for it. He had it in his hands before Davis was even aware that he’d lost it. Though he had no intention of using it, he pointed it at the other man. 

“Get out of here,” he snarled. Davis’ eyes widened and he turned and stumbled away. Colin could hear him mumbling incoherently to himself. He watched until Davis disappeared into an empty lot next to the house. 

Colin stooped to pick up the bag Davis had dropped in the street and shoved it into his pocket. He would need it as evidence when he went to the police and demanded that Jeff be removed from this house. He’d keep the gun as well, but he was leery about pocketing it with the drugs, knowing nothing about firearms. So he held it gingerly, pointing the barrel downward as he went up the front walk to the house in search of Jeff. 

“Jeff?” Colin called, as he peered into each of the few rooms. The house was empty. Colin wondered if Jeff had run away. He was debating whether to call the police from there or go right to the station when he looked out the kitchen window and saw Davis staggering back across the lawn. As Colin watched, he went inside what looked like a tool shed, pulling the door closed behind him. His inebriated voice carried through the windows. It sounded like he was yelling at someone… 

Colin ran outside and sprinted across the yard. He yanked open the unlocked door to the shed, and gasped in horror. 

Jeff’s expression was groggy, his eyes glazed as though he’d been given some kind of drug. His arms and what Colin could see of his back were covered in fresh, angry bruises. He was bent over a beat-up workbench, making a horrible groaning, sobbing sound. His pants were around his ankles and behind him, his father was also naked from the waist, thrusting into Jeff with intoxicated clumsiness. 

“You like that, you sick bastard? You little queer? You want more?” He slammed fiercely into his son’s flesh. Blood spattered the dirt floor as he pulled out again and turned on Colin in the doorway. 

Colin would have years to think about it, carefully analyzing and dissecting the moment as he’d once done to phytoplankton. Though he would relive this instant for the rest of his days, both consciously and in his nightmares, he never could reach a definitive conclusion as to whether or not he was fully cognizant of what he was doing when he pointed the gun at Jeff’s father and fired a bullet into his head. 

In 1987, there was little sympathy in the justice system for a gay man. Particularly one who was found in a shed with a gun in his hand, standing over a dead man and a sixteen year old who had been drugged and raped. Eyewitness reports of seeing Jeff in Colin’s car on numerous occasions, as well as colleagues testifying to a relationship which was closer than that of most teachers and their students, further damaged his credibility. 

Jeff might have been an invaluable witness, providing testimony to help lighten Colin’s sentence. He could have sworn to the court that Colin hadn’t been the one to force himself upon him in the tool shed. Perhaps Jeff would have made the jury see that it was possible for a gay man to love a teenaged boy – even one who was also gay, or at least sexually confused – in a completely innocent way. 

But Jeff never did give any kind of statement. On the night he was sexually assaulted by his father, who was in turn murdered by his science teacher, Jeff managed to slip past an inattentive night staff at the local hospital to which he’d been brought, barely conscious and deeply in shock, direct from the crime scene. His body was discovered the next morning by fishermen, way out in the ocean where the stingrays swam.


	8. Chapter 8

Only the sounds of breaking waves could be heard as they sat motionless on the sand. Ryan was trying to process all that Colin had just revealed. Colin seemed to be reliving it. His face, awash in moonlight, showed his inner turmoil.

“So you got eleven years in prison?” Ryan asked, when he found his voice.

“No,” Colin replied. His voice was hoarse from talking for so long. “Life in prison. I was convicted of murder, and rape of a minor.”

He sighed, idly picking up a broken shell and scrutinizing it. “The drug possession charges were dropped. The dealer was arrested in a bust a few nights later. He told the police he’d sold the cocaine in my pocket to Davis, not me. He admitted it was his gun, too. But it didn’t help my case any.” He tossed the shell back on the sand.

“So then how…” Ryan began.

“A gay rights group got involved. They spent a couple years lobbying for an investigation. They said I’d been treated unfairly because of my sexuality. They finally got one, in 1998. By then the country was more enlightened than it was in 1987, and I got a new trial. That jury decided there wasn’t enough evidence to convict me of rape.”

Colin cleared his throat, and took a drink from the water canteen beside him.

“My lawyer found a new witness, too – a guy who’d lived next door to the Davises. He testified that Jeff’s father had beaten him unconscious once. The neighbor called the police, but Davis swore Jeff fell climbing a tree, and Jeff backed him up. He must have been afraid not to. But the incident was still on record. It suddenly seemed more plausible that Davis really had been in the middle of raping his son when I shot him. The murder charge was reduced to manslaughter, on the grounds that I was trying to protect Jeff.”

Colin turned his head towards Ryan then, for the first time since he’d begun telling his story. “That was all I wanted to do.” 

Ryan met Colin’s eyes. In them, he saw an immeasurable amount of pain, for the boy he had loved, and for everything else he’d lost when he sacrificed it all for Jeff. 

“I know it was, Col,” Ryan said softly. Colin smiled slightly, gratefully. He began speaking again, and Ryan settled back to listen.

“I was released the day the verdict came back in my second trial. I’d already served more time than if I’d gotten the manslaughter conviction to begin with. A lot more, probably, because of the circumstances of the shooting.” Colin chuckled mirthlessly. “It was a big victory for gay rights.”

“For you too, I would say,” Ryan said. He touched Colin’s shoulder lightly.

Colin shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t want to be let out of jail.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I’d spent eleven years hating myself. I figured it was where I belonged.”

Ryan shifted position in the sand so he could face Colin directly. “Colin… why would you hate yourself?”

Colin picked up his canteen and took a deep swallow. He didn’t answer right away, gazing out over the water, which reflected the lights from a million stars in the sky above it.

“You know…” he said finally, “If I’d stopped and thought for two seconds that day, I wouldn’t have shot Jeff’s father. What I should have done was called the police, gone to child protective services, gone to court – whatever it took to get Jeff out of there, and his father put away. But it was pure, animal instinct. He was hurting Jeff, and I had to stop him.”

“Colin, anyone would have done the same thing… what he did was sick. It was-” 

Colin cut him off. “But even after all this time, I still can’t make myself truly regret it. I can’t find it in me to think he didn’t deserve that. Sometimes I feel guilty for not feeling guilty… if that makes any sense.”

This time Ryan didn’t interrupt. He just reached over and pressed Colin’s hand with his, silently assuring him that yes, of course it made sense. Colin went on.

“All I really regret is Jeff. Losing him. Knowing how bad he had it. Wondering if things could have turned out a lot better for him, if he hadn’t…” He stopped to clear his throat again, but this time it clearly wasn’t just overuse of his vocal chords that was causing the tightness.

Ryan tightened his grip on Colin’s hand, lifting it from the sand and holding it in his own. “But why would you hate yourself for it? You didn’t know how bad it was, not until that night.”

Colin let out a long, shaky sigh. “No. But… there were signs, even before then. The way he was so withdrawn around most people. I told myself he was shy, and that there were simple explanations for the bruises I saw on him sometimes. Maybe if I’d tried to do something sooner…” He sighed again. “When you’re locked away for eleven years, you have a lot of time to second guess yourself.”

He turned to look at Ryan. His face was sad, but he smiled a little.

“I have a little more perspective now, after all these years of doing nothing but thinking. And sometimes I feel good, remembering the time I had with Jeff. I think it was good for him. He was happy then, I know he was.”

Ryan squeezed his hand again. “Of course he was.” A long silence fell. Colin took several swallows from his canteen, but left his hand in Ryan’s. Ryan sat quietly, patiently waiting for Colin to be ready to talk again. He looked up at the stars. There were millions of them, dotting the sky like glitter on black velvet.

_You look amazing. You should always wear black. A gentle touch on his shoulder… I’m sorry, Ry. Let’s just have a good time tonight, okay?_

Ryan started, looked around and reached up to rub his eyes. Another memory? He gritted his teeth, trying to hold on to it, but once again it slipped away.

Colin was looking at him inquisitively. “What is it?”

Ryan shook his head. “Nothing…” Colin was still watching him. He forced himself to smile. “I’m okay. A bug… a mosquito or something… it bit me.”

He wasn’t sure Colin was convinced, but he didn’t pursue it. Ryan determinedly focused his attention back on Colin’s story.

“What made you come out here?” he inquired. “You must have come right after getting out of prison, right?”

Colin nodded. “A few months later. I didn’t know what do with myself. All the plans I’d once made… they came to an end when I went to jail. When I came out, they didn’t matter anymore. And I didn’t have anywhere to go. None of my friends, no one I’d worked with before, had kept in touch. I was a rapist and murderer, after all.” He snorted. 

“I didn’t have any family left, either. My parents both died while I was in jail. We weren’t exactly close anyway… they couldn’t accept that I was gay. The murder charge was just a natural extension of that, as far as they were concerned. I never saw either of them again after the trial.” 

Colin had to pause to take another sip of water. He coughed a little. 

“After he won the trial, my lawyer filed against the state. It was all his idea – I didn’t care, but the case got him notoriety. Wrongful imprisonment, discrimination and some other charges. He got me some money out of it, more than I’ll ever need. So I decided to leave… get away from where it had all happened, and where a lot of people still thought of me as a criminal. And I wanted to be near the ocean. I never thought I would see it again.” His gaze gravitated to the water, as though he could never look long enough. Following his glance, Ryan tried to imagine Colin locked away for eleven years without his ocean. It was too awful to contemplate.

“When I heard about this place -” Colin gestured vaguely, encompassing the entire archipelago of Carey’s Island and the surrounding islands – “it sounded right for me. I needed to be alone, to think… figure out what I was going to do.” He shrugged, and a tiny smile tugged at his lips. “As it turned out, this was it. Living here was all I ended up doing. I like it. I’ve made a decent life out of it.” 

“You sure have.” Ryan kept his voice low, not wanting to interrupt Colin’s thoughts. 

“It’s been good for me. And it took a long time, but I’m finally okay with everything. I really am.” Colin looked at Ryan, smiling a real smile now; one that told Ryan that he spoke the truth. “And now I know that Jeff is okay too, wherever he is. Know how I know?” 

Ryan smiled back. “How?” 

“A few years after I came here, I was out fishing in the boat. Not very far, just a couple hundred yards out. I was thinking about Jeff. And then I saw something in the water. I thought it was a trout at first, but when I looked over the side of the boat, I saw it up close. It was a stingray.” Colin looked off into the distance, his smile wider, genuinely happy. “You never see stingrays this close to shore out here. They like deep water. But there it was, swimming right past my boat.” He shrugged, still smiling, and cleared his throat once more. His voice was nearly gone now. 

“Maybe it’s crazy, but it felt like a sign. Like Jeff was letting me know that he’s all right, and that he’s still with me.” 

Ryan wrapped his arms around Colin then, pulling him against his chest in an embrace that conveyed all he was feeling, but didn’t know how to put into words. With his touch, he told Colin that he was a good person; a brave and noble man who Ryan was honored to know. 

Colin sighed deeply and leaned into Ryan, exhausted, but at peace. He looked up into Ryan’s face and smiled. 

Ryan wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but before either of them could say another word, he inclined his head and brushed Colin’s lips with his own. Then, startled, he quickly drew back. 

Colin merely smiled again, and turned back around, still snug in Ryan’s arms. His eyes were focused upward. After a moment’s confusion, Ryan followed his gaze. They stayed out there on the beach for hours into the night, watching the stars reach across the sky into eternity.


	9. Chapter 9

The clouds were high, with long tails. The rising sun streaked the sky with red. Colin was familiar enough with the signs - another storm was coming. 

Sitting on the sand with the water lapping at his bare feet, Colin kept an eye on the horizon and let his thoughts drift to Ryan, who was sleeping in the hut when Colin came outside to watch the sunrise. 

Telling Ryan his story had been cathartic. In twenty-four years, he had told no one other than the lawyer who had handled his first trial and treated Colin throughout with barely disguised contempt; and the second, younger attorney who was eager to take on the world and its’ injustices – and the money and fame he’d achieve for doing so. Neither of them had realized that Colin was not just a case to be argued, but a real person – one who’d acted out of love and wept for all he’d lost. 

Ryan was different. He’d listened without judgment as the past flooded out of Colin like water over a dam. Ryan’s eyes had reflected Colin’s pain, and his gentle touch told Colin he didn’t think any less of him for what he’d done. When Colin had finished, emotionally drained, Ryan had been a warm, strong body to lean on beneath the stars. 

And then there was the kiss. Colin didn’t quite know what to make of that. Perhaps it had been nothing more than Ryan’s way of trying to comfort him. Colin had been too exhausted to analyze it that night. But later, he’d thought back on it many times. Colin had to admit that feeling Ryan’s lips against his had stirred something within him. A longing he thought had died when his former life had crumbled around him. 

Still, there’d been no indication on Ryan’s part that the kiss had meant anything beyond friendship. Although there was definitely a stronger bond between them, they’d gone on just as before, doing the daily chores, swimming in the now tranquil ocean, and talking under the stars at night. 

There had also been no further talk of taking Ryan to Carey’s Island. That was weighing on Colin’s mind as he watched the sun try half-heartedly to break through the clouds. 

Ryan needed to be brought to the mainland, Colin knew. He should have medical attention, for his memory loss, and his leg injury – although that was healing nicely. Ryan had stopped wearing the splint, and though he was sore, he could walk without much trouble. Colin now thought that it was probably a bad sprain, rather than a fracture. 

They also needed to find out if anyone was looking for Ryan. Despite Ryan’s fears, Colin figured it was unlikely that no one knew he was gone. Not for the first time, Colin felt a twinge of guilt. He should have had Jonathan radio the mainland during his visit to the hub. He’d been trying not to think about his lapse in judgment, but he finally had to admit the truth, and acknowledge why he had tried to keep Ryan to himself. 

Colin thought he had cornered the market on loneliness. But it turned out there was a big difference between being alone and being lonely. Alone was the solitude that was forced upon Colin for eleven years and chosen by him for thirteen. He’d been perfectly content in his isolation - until Ryan had washed up on his island. Ryan had been sharing his life for just a short while, and now Colin couldn’t imagine returning to his usual seclusion without feeling the pain of another loss. 

“Colin?” 

Colin looked up with a smile, which faded when he saw Ryan’s expression. He looked dazed. 

“Ryan, what is it?” He startled to scramble to his feet, but Ryan’s next words stopped him. 

“I – I remembered.” 

Colin fell back on his knees, staring up at Ryan. “You remembered…” 

“All of it. Who I am. What happened.” He dropped down in the sand beside Colin and drew his knees to his chest. Colin reached for his hand. 

“Tell me.” 

Ryan exhaled slowly. “I’ve been having these… flashes… for the last couple of days. I’d get a picture in my head, or I’d hear someone’s voice, just for a second, and then it would disappear. And then a little while ago, I woke up, and it was back. Everything – I remembered all of it. I was scared I would lose it again. I didn’t even move for the longest time. I was just lying there, hanging on to it. I keep thinking it’s going to go away.” 

Colin squeezed Ryan’s hand. “It won’t.” 

Ryan squeezed back, and looked out at the ocean, then back at Colin. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“Tell me your name,” Colin suggested.

“It’s Ryan. You were right.” Ryan smiled briefly. “Ryan Stiles. I live in Washington. I work at Microsoft – well, I did. I got laid off last year.” He paused. “That letter… the one that was in my pocket, from Greg? He’s… he was my boyfriend. For almost fifteen years.” 

Something in Colin’s heart twisted. He pushed the feeling aside and forced himself to concentrate on Ryan’s story. But Ryan looked at him suddenly, as if reading his mind. 

“We’re not together anymore. He’s with our friend Wayne now.” Ryan snorted. “ _His_ friend. My ex-friend. They moved in together a few months ago.” He sighed. “Greg’s been trying to get me to meet him somewhere and talk about dividing up the furniture and everything in our house. That’s what the letter was about. He wants his stuff… his stereo, and his computer. I changed the locks after he left.” 

“Well, good for you,” Colin said. Ryan grinned at him. 

“I know, right? Why should he be allowed in the house? After he brought Wayne there all those times I wasn’t home. Yeah, he was cheating on me,” he added, growing serious again. 

“Bastard.” 

“Yeah.” Ryan paused. “But… well, if it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else. We were done, a long time ago. I was just having a hard time admitting it. So I pretended everything was fine. Really, Greg only forced it out into the open. He just went about it in a fucked up way.” Ryan reached up to rub his eyes with his free hand. 

“We were supposed to go to Hawaii for our anniversary. We booked the trip a long time ago. Then we broke up. But… the reservations were still good, and it was all paid for. So I went alone.” Ryan looked over at Colin. 

“Greg knew I went. I should have been home a couple days ago. I don’t know if he knows I didn’t come back.” 

Colin nodded slowly. “We’ll find out. We’ll go to Carey’s Island and have Jonathan call the mainland.” 

Ryan dropped his gaze to the sand. “He probably doesn’t know. I mean… I haven’t returned his calls, so even if he’s tried to get in touch with me, he wouldn’t think anything about not hearing back.” 

“Someone else must realize you’re gone, though.” 

“I don’t know,” Ryan said hesitantly. “I’d been… cut off from things for a while. I didn’t stay in touch with anyone from work. And most of my friends… they were ‘our’ friends, you know? I haven’t seen much of them since the breakup. I got the house, Greg got the friends.” He snorted. 

“What about family?” Colin asked, though he could guess at the answer. 

Ryan shook his head. “My father’s gone. My mother’s in a home for Alzheimer’s patients in Vancouver, and my brothers are all far away… none of us are close. They wouldn’t realize anything was wrong, maybe not for months.” He grew quiet for a moment. 

“I guess I was pretty depressed for a while,” Ryan said finally. “Everything had just… fallen apart. Greg was gone, my job was gone, I didn’t have anyone to talk to… I didn’t have anything. Some days I just stayed in bed, because there wasn’t any reason to get up. It was pretty bad.” 

Colin squeezed Ryan’s hand again. He certainly knew what that was like… losing everything, and not having any good reason to get out of bed in the morning. Except for prison guards who wouldn’t stand for inmates trying to lie on their bunks all day long. 

Then Ryan turned to face Colin. 

“Anyway… so the reason I was out so far that night, the night of the storm…” He paused. Colin waited for him to finish. Ryan let out a long, shuddering sigh. 

“I was going to kill myself.” 

Colin sucked in his breath. Ryan’s face was pale, and he stared unseeingly out over the water as he continued. 

“That was why I went on the trip to Hawaii. I figured if I was going to end it all, it might as well be in a nice place.” He chuckled mirthlessly. 

“Greg and I went sailing sometimes. He’s really good at it, and he taught me some things. I’m not that good, but I know enough to get a boat out on the water. So I went to a boat shop on Honolulu and bought a second-hand sailboat. A cheap-ass thing, it probably would have fallen apart even without that storm. But I knew it was coming, and I took the boat out on the water. It was already getting bad - there was almost no one out there. But I kept on going. I wanted to make sure I was too far out to turn back… to change my mind.” He released another shaky hiss of breath. 

“The wind was crazy. My sail got torn apart. I couldn’t control the boat any more but I figured I was out far enough. So… I jumped.” A shudder ran through Ryan at the memory. Colin slipped an arm around his shoulders, and Ryan leaned into him. 

“The mast got hit by lightning a minute later. You could see the electricity, and hear a sizzling sound. I remember thinking, well damn, I could have just stayed in the boat and that would have done it. I was getting slammed by waves… they kept picking me up and throwing me under. I told myself, this is it, just let what happens happen.” Ryan paused. 

“I don’t know... I guess my survival instinct kicked in. I started trying to swim, and keep my head above water. I couldn’t see the boat anymore. I yelled for help, but there wasn’t anyone there. I kept swallowing water, and I couldn’t breathe. It was dark, and so friggin’ cold…” Ryan was shivering now, as though reliving it. Colin tightened his grip on him. 

“I didn’t want to die anymore. But I could feel myself slipping away… kind of like falling asleep. So finally, I just stopped fighting. That’s all I remember, until I ended up here.” 

Both men fell silent. Ryan shifted position in the sand so that he was pressed up closer to Colin, who gently massaged his shoulder. When Ryan spoke again, his voice was low. 

“You must think I’m the world’s biggest coward.” 

Astonished, Colin turned to face him. “What? Why?” 

Ryan sighed and shook his head. “For giving up. Over stupid things. I mean, look what you went through. And you survived. I bet you never thought about killing yourself.” 

“You’d lose that bet.” Ryan looked shocked. Colin shrugged. “In prison, I’d lie awake planning ways to do it. But you don’t have a lot of options in a jail cell. A good thing, as it turns out. But yes, I thought about it. Many times.” 

“Still…” Ryan said. “What you went through was so much worse. And Jeff, too… No one could blame either of you for wanting to stop the pain.” 

Colin shook his head. “Pain is relative, Ryan. Your pain wasn’t any less real than mine. It was a bad time for you, and you wanted to escape.” 

Some of the tension seemed to drain out of Ryan. He took a deep breath, looking out over the water. Colin squeezed his shoulders. 

“The important thing is… do you still want to die?” 

Ryan shook his head emphatically. “No. No way. I was wrong. I didn’t lose everything. I just hadn’t found a lot of things yet. Not until I came here. Like… dolphins in the ocean.” Colin grinned at him. Ryan smiled back, but his eyes were serious. “And… the way the stars look over the water. And…” he hesitated, looking directly at Colin. “And you,” he finished softly. 

Colin blinked, then swallowed. His gaze locked with Ryan’s. This time when their lips came together, neither of them pulled back. 

With this kiss, Colin felt as though part of Ryan was entering his soul, filling the empty place that had been neglected for so long. He brought his hands to Ryan’s head and twined them through his hair, pulling him closer; taking in as much of him as he could get. Ryan came willingly, tugging at Colin with equal desire and need. 

They finally broke the kiss, but stayed close, foreheads touching, and looked into one another’s eyes with shy smiles. They both laughed a little, awkwardly, but kept on holding each other. 

“You know,” Ryan said suddenly, his face still inches from Colin’s, “There was one other good thing to come out of all this.” 

“What’s that?” Colin was finding it hard to concentrate with Ryan’s breath on his skin. 

“That sailboat I bought?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I used Greg’s credit card.” 

Colin laughed so hard he fell backwards onto the sand. Laughing himself, Ryan collapsed onto his chest, and Colin’s arms came up to embrace him. 

At the first crack of thunder, they were too deeply entwined; naked bodies exploring and touching and loving, to even notice. It wasn’t until a wave broke over them that they jumped at the shock of icy ocean water mingling with the warm rain on their skin. Laughing, they gathered up their soaked clothing and ran through the downpour back to the hut.

Sex on the narrow cot with its’ thin mattress didn’t have quite the same romantic connotations as sex on the beach, Colin mused, as his mouth slowly traced a path down Ryan’s belly, kissing the soft skin and eliciting shivers of pleasure. 

But it would do for a start.


	10. Chapter 10

The dock at Carey’s Island was as silent as it had been the last time Colin was here. Chip again sat dozing in his canvas chair, baseball cap covering his face. He lifted it slowly as Colin tied his motor boat to the pilings. 

“Hi, Colin.” Yawning, Chip stretched out his tanned limbs. “What brings you back so-” He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as Ryan stepped out of the boat. 

“Hey, Chip,” Ryan greeted him casually. He grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement when Chip only stared. 

“Hello, Chip.” Colin kept his tone just as casual as Ryan’s. “This is my good friend Ryan. We need a boat out to Honolulu. Jonathan around?” 

Chip found his voice. “Uh… yeah. Sure. At the hub.” 

“Thanks.” Colin and Ryan both gave Chip a friendly wave and headed down to the hub, leaving Chip looking after them in bewilderment.

~

They’d come to an agreement the night before, after days of discussion. At first, Ryan hadn’t wanted to go back.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “My memory’s back, and my leg is just about better. There’s nothing left for me back there.”

“You have family,” Colin reminded him. “You have to at least let them know you’re all right.”

Ryan had made a scoffing sound. “I’ll send a message to them sometime, when we go to Carey’s Island. There’s plenty of time for that.” Then, mischievously, he added, “You sound like you don’t want me to stay here, Col…” He ran a hand teasingly down Colin’s bare chest and stomach, and lightly fingered the waistband of his cut off jeans. 

Colin had conceded defeat as Ryan eased him back in the sand and covered him with his own sun-baked body. But he would revisit the subject again. 

~

As they approached the general store, Ryan nudged Colin and gestured with his head. Colin couldn’t imagine how word had gotten here so quickly, but there was Drew, lumbering out onto the porch and eyeing Ryan with the suspicion he normally saved for his best customers. Ryan raised a hand in salute. “Morning, Drew,” he called, as he and Colin continued on without stopping. Colin chanced a look over his shoulder, and found Drew still gawking, craning his neck to watch them go. Colin grinned. 

~

“You have to face it some time,” Colin said, his arms locked around Ryan as they lay in the sun after a long afternoon of slow, languid lovemaking. 

“Huh?” Ryan murmured. He’d been dozing. Colin propped himself on his elbow and looked down into Ryan’s face. 

“Look, I know things weren’t going well, but you still have a life back there. You can’t just give up on it. Not without at least trying to resolve things first... come to terms with them.” 

Fully awake now, Ryan regarded him thoughtfully. “I could say the same for you.”

~

Jonathan was standing in the doorway of the hub when they arrived. Colin shook his head, bemused. Did Chip have one of those tiny portable phones that Ryan talked about? How else did the entire population of Carey’s Island know they were here? 

“Hi, Colin,” Jonathan called as they approached, his eyes on Ryan. He stepped outside, still scrutinizing Ryan with blatant curiosity. 

“Hello, Jonathan. We need you to put through a call to the mainland.” 

Jonathan nodded. “Who should I say is calling?” he asked eagerly. 

~

“You’re right.” 

Colin looked up from the mackerel he was cleaning. “About what?” 

Ryan sighed, pulling the second stool over to the table. “I do need to go back, and finish what I started. Not forever,” he added. “I mean, I can come back here… right?” 

Colin cupped Ryan’s cheek in his hand. “What do you think?” 

Ryan smiled, but he had more to say. “Come with me.” At Colin’s startled look, he went on, “Look, I meant what I said… you need to face up to things as much as I do. You’re trying to hide, too. You’ve just done it a lot longer than I have. And without doing anything dumb like throwing yourself into the ocean during a hurricane. But… we’re still kind of the same, aren’t we?” 

“Ryan,” Colin said, “I get what you’re saying, but it’s not exactly the same. I’m not hiding – I just don’t have anyone left to face.” 

“Except for the entire world.” 

~

Sipping from the glass of iced tea that Jonathan brought him, Colin listened as the Coast Guard officers questioned Ryan. A smile tugged at his lips when he heard that one of Ryan’s brothers had reported him missing three days earlier. The smile widened when he saw the look of pleased surprise that lit up Ryan’s face at the news.

~

“I’m serious,” Ryan said. “I know you’re happy here, and it’s a good life, but there’s also a whole world you don’t know anything about. Shouldn’t you at least find out if there’s anything out there for you?” 

When Colin didn’t answer, Ryan rolled onto his side to face him. “I was thinking… you could finish up that marine biology degree. You’d like that.” 

Colin sighed. “What would I do with a degree now?” 

“Who knows?” Ryan replied. “You could do anything you wanted. And I know you still love all that stuff, like plankton and algae, and snails. You know, when you tell me about those things, you actually make it _interesting_. Not to mention the dolphins, and the stingrays. They’re all still there, Col. And your island will always be here, too.” He sat up, brushing sand off his arms. 

“You could go to a university in Hawaii, maybe. You could stay there during the week, and come back out here on weekends. And…I could stay in Hawaii too. Once I settle things in Washington. Call my family…sell my house… give Greg his damn stereo back.” 

~

A medical officer was giving Ryan a quick going over inside the hub. Colin wasn’t worried. He’d seen for himself that Ryan was strong as a horse. Physically, and emotionally. He’d come a long way since the night he’d washed up on the beach at Colin’s island, on the run from a life that was too painful to allow himself to remember. 

Maybe Colin had, too. 

He’d thought he had agreed to go back for Ryan’s sake. But he’d spent a few days contemplating Ryan’s words – which were really just his own, thrown back at him – and he was starting to wonder if Ryan was correct; that they applied to Colin as well. That he and Ryan were really very much alike, and they were both running away from their pain. 

Twenty four years ago, the world had betrayed Colin by allowing terrible things to happen to Jeff; and condemning Colin for trying to put a stop to it. Unable to forgive, Colin had responded by putting himself into an emotional fugue state, one that was as debilitating in its’ own way as Ryan’s. 

It was just beginning to occur to Colin that the entire world hadn’t been in on his pain. There were still good, decent people out there. Ryan was proof of that. 

Maybe now it was time to give the world a second chance. 

Ryan emerged from the hub, followed by the medic who pronounced him healthy enough to make the trip to Honolulu in the patrol boat. Ryan and Colin grinned at each other, and Colin felt a small stir of anticipation. It had been so long since he’d been anywhere other than his island home. 

One of the Coast Guard officers moved to help Ryan into the boat, but Ryan ignored the outstretched hand and hopped aboard on his own. Colin followed, settling beside him. Ryan reached for his hand and squeezed it. 

“Ready?” he asked, smiling. 

“Ready,” Colin confirmed. 

The motor revved into life and the boat cut through the waves towards Hawaii. Still holding Ryan’s hand in his, Colin smiled, and lifted his face to the sun. 

 

**~End~**


End file.
